Primus (left to right): Larry “Ler” LaLonde, Jay Lane, and Les Claypool. Photo by Brad Hodge
Caricatures—those silly portraits you can buy at amusement
parks and state fairs—offer a fascinating case study of
human nature. When they’re done well, you recognize the
subject immediately, and yet they’re so exaggerated that it’s impossible
to take them seriously.
For Primus—hands down the most out-there new band when they
emerged in the late 1980s and early ’90s—caricatures are
everything.
Bassist/vocalist Les Claypool’s playing is so wacky and mind-bogglingly
over-the-top, his lyrics and vocal delivery are so off-the-wall, and guitarist
Larry “Ler” LaLonde’s lines are so dissonant, that it’s a major miracle
their 1990 album, Frizzle Fry, spawned a minor radio hit with “John
the Fisherman.” Never mind that the following year Claypool’s even
more avant-garde jibberjabber and the jaw-dropping bass tapping on
“Jerry Was a Race Car Driver,” as well as the skwonky slapping and frenetic
6-string wailing on “Tommy the Cat” (both from
Sailing the Seas
of Cheese) were all over MTV and rock radio. Naturally, the videos were
chock full of bizarre-o animation and claymation caricatures.
Looking back, the irony is that Primus’ story obliterates musicians’
favorite rhetorical caricatures of the 1980s and 1990s. You know—the
ones that say rockers from the Reagan years all wore spandex, teased
their hair, and played wanky solos on pointy-headstocked guitars
over brain-dead eighth-note bass lines, while the ’90s supposedly had
nothing to offer but plaid-wearing shoegazers who could barely play and
who hated solos as much as themselves.
In fact, Claypool was as responsible as the Red Hot Chili Peppers’
Flea for sending legions of young bassists to woodshed on über-technical
slapping and popping techniques. And LaLonde, who had studied
advanced theory with Joe Satriani as a teen, was a uniquely qualified
texturalist who could weave shredding atonal tapestries through
Claypool’s outlandish escapades. And drummers Tim “Herb” Alexander
and, later, Bryan “Brain” Mantia were technical powerhouses who completed
the trio of strangeness. Primus was like Rush re-imagined by a
mentally disturbed circus master.
But sometime in the late ’90s, the clever caricatures and celebratory
weirdness started to lose their allure for the band. By 2001,
Primus was burnt out—on the music
and each other. Claypool
thought they were done for good, but they decided to call their
break a “hiatus.” While LaLonde worked on various projects—one
with Brain Mantia, and another with System of a Down vocalist
Serj Tankian—the Primus bass guru also stretched out. Among his
endeavors was the fusion-y Oysterhead, which included legendary
Police drummer Stewart Copeland and Phish’s Trey Anastasio on
guitar, and Colonel Claypool’s Bucket of Bernie Brains had deep-fried
freak show Buckethead on the 6-string, Bernie Worrell on organ,
and Mantia on drums. Primus
did regroup to tour a couple of
times over the last decade, but
Claypool says, “it just seemed
like it was a nostalgic thing . . .
we weren’t moving forward.”
But something happened in
2010. LaLonde and Claypool
were hanging out as friends again,
and on a whim, they got together
and jammed with original Primus
drummer Jay Lane—who cowrote
the songs that got the band
a record deal in the ’80s but left
for good a month before they
went into the studio. Seemingly
just like that, the Primus magic
was rekindled and plans for their
recently released studio album,
Green Naugahyde, were underway.
It’s been 11 years or so since
Primus put out a studio album.
First off, why? And second,
what brought you guys back
together?
Ler LaLonde: Well, after the tour
for [1999’s]
Antipop, we came
home and never really got around
to doing anything [
laughs].
Usually, we come home from
a tour and eventually we start
something back up, but we never
ended up starting back up.
Les Claypool: By the end of the
’90s, we were so burnt out on
each other and the band and the
whole bit that we were just making
crappy music—
if we were
even making music. We were just
in different [head] spaces: I had
kids . . . they didn’t have kids . . .
and we’d been doing it for such a
long time that it was just time to
stop. For me, on a creative level,
it was just
stagnant. I didn’t enjoy
playing my instrument, I didn’t
enjoy the music we were playing,
I didn’t enjoy the scene that we
had become a part of—we were
doing the Ozzfest and Family
Values tours and these other
things that were just way more
rock than I was really comfortable
with. I don’t want to knock any
of those scenes, but it just wasn’t
where my head was at. We called
it a “hiatus,” but it didn’t look
very likely that we were ever going
to do it again—but, y’know, never
say “never.”
When I did Oysterhead, I
had this epiphany: “Hey, there
are people out there who want
to see you play your instrument,
and they don’t give a shit what
kind of baseball cap you’re wearing
or if it’s turned sideways or
how baggy your pants are.” It
was about showing your vulnerable
side a little bit—going
out there and dancing on the
edge. It didn’t have to be perfect
and so calculated. It made me
excited about playing again.
We played Pink Floyd’s
Animals
in its entirety, played King
Crimson, Larry Graham, and
Peter Gabriel—all these different
things that were just fun to do.
I spent a handful of years as a
kid playing in all these biker bars
with this R&B band, and this
was kind of like going back to
that again.
Les, what happened to change
your mind about the “hiatus”?
Claypool: Well, I went off and
did all kinds of stuff. These past
10 years formed the most creatively
stimulating period of my
life. I bought an old Airstream
motor home and filled it up with
my favorite players and started
playing bars up and down the
whole West Coast. We were staying
in motels and sharing rooms.
It was back to the trenches, and
it was amazing. That was with
[Colonel Les Claypool’s Fearless
Flying] Frog Brigade.
Larry went off and did his
thing, too, but we ended up getting
back together in 2003 to do
some touring, and we made that
little EP [
Animals Should Not
Try to Act Like People]. That was
fun. And then we did it again
in ’06, but it just seemed like
it was a nostalgic thing and we
weren’t moving forward. A manager
will always tell you—and
I’ve been through a few of them
lately—that “You’ve got to push
the brand, build the brand, build
the brand.” For me, that would’ve
been a great business move, but
on a creative level it was just not
happening. So I finished up my
last [solo] album and was wondering
what to do next—Oysterhead,
another solo record, another film
project . . . there were lots of different
options.
Larry and I had started
hanging out again. He was in
a different [head] space, and I
was in a different space, and he
really wanted to do Primus. So
I said, “Let’s call Jay Lane.” Ler
had never played with Jay, but
I’ve played with him—besides
in the early days of Primus—in
the Frog Brigade, Sausage, and
[Claypool’s 1996 solo project]
Holy Mackerel. So when we
sat down with Jay and started
playing “Pudding Time” [from
Frizzle Fry], the room just
lit
up. It was unbelievable. We just
looked at each other and started
laughing, because we knew this
was amazing and it was time
to do it again. So we decided
to do some shows, and then a
record . . . so here we are.
LaLonde in a rare moment playing a Les Paul Custom at a
2008 Ottawa Blues Festival gig. Photo by VANHORN.CO
What was so magical about that
first time playing with Jay?
Claypool: First of all, Jay was the
voice of the drum parts on those
first couple of records. A lot of
those original tunes—“Harold of
the Rocks,” “John the Fisherman,”
“Pudding Time,” even “Tommy
the Cat”—were written when
he was around, so they had that
feel. Second, Jay is a very positive,
happy, goofy guy. When he comes
into a room, his energy is very .
. . he’s like the Tommy Chong
of drummers. He and I have a
chemistry that I’ve never found
with anybody except Stewart
Copeland. We just click. Also,
Jay has big ears—he hears every
little thing, just like Stewart. So
all of the sudden Ler was like,
“Wow, I’ve got all this room!” I
think that’s where that spark came
from—it was a little different
chemistry than we’ve had with
Tim or Brain.
LaLonde: Jay will hear something
you’re playing that you don’t even
realize you’re playing—and then
start playing off of it. So things
start to evolve pretty quickly playing
with him.
When Jay picks up on those
little eccentricities, does it make
you analyze your playing more
and make it easier, or does it
make it more difficult?
LaLonde: I think it does make
you realize what you’re playing a
little more, and maybe even make
you feel like, “Well, if he noticed
that, then I’ll throw in this extra
part.” It inspires you to move on.
It’s like, “Okay, that part’s already
done—because he’s got it figured
out.” Then I’ll start building on
another part.
What are the highlights of the
new album for you guys?
LaLonde: I was excited to get
“Jilly’s on Smack” on there,
because it’s a riff I’ve had around
for a long time. So when I
brought it in, everyone was excited
and it came together really
fast. “Internal Consumption
Engine” is sort of a circus-y song
that I’ve had around for a super
long time. I think me and Les
even did something with it right
after the first or second album—
or while we were on tour with
U2 [in 1992]—but it never
turned into anything.
Claypool: “Hennepin Crawler”
is a really fun one to play. “Lee
Van Cleef” is
incredibly fun to
play—I love playing that song.
And Ler brought in a couple of
tunes on this album, and “Jilly’s
on Smack” is a
really enjoyable
song to play. It’s kind of a
spooky, creepy, but somewhat
lovely song. When Ler came in
with it I was, like, “Oh my god,
I’ve gotta play my upright on
this, and I’m going to play
arco
[with a bow],” because I wanted
to reinforce his part. For me to
get in there and start thumping
away would have cluttered
things. If there’s something busy
going on, I’m going to contrast it
with some whole notes. If there’s
a sparse element to it, I’m going
to find the holes and fill them
with some percussive stuff.
“Lee Van Cleef” is the most
infectiously funky track on the
album. What’s the story behind
that song?
Claypool: A handful of years
ago, this company sent me this
resonator bass and said, “This
is a custom bass. We want to
make these for you. What do you
think—will you endorse them?”
I was like, “Oh, cool—custom
bass.” And then I got it home and
looked on the back and there’s
this sticker that says “Made in
China.” I was like, “What the
hell is this!” [
Laughs.] I let it sit
around, and I plunked away
on it once in a while. On my
last record, I used it to get this
Deliverance-y twang for a song
called “Boonville Stomp”—and
then I never put it down. It’s just
a fun bass to get all swampy with.
Prior to this record, if I stumbled
across a part I liked, I’d just lay
it down on a little tape recorder,
and one of the riffs was that part
for “Lee Van Cleef.” When it
came time to make the record, I
said, “Hey guys, check it out.”
Claypool with his Dan Maloney-built Pachyderm signature bass prototype
at a
February 2011 gig in Sydney, Australia. Photo by Cassandra Hannagan
What’s so fun about playing
that bass, Les?
Claypool: I don’t want to knock
anybody, but I took it to EMG
to have a pickup put in it, and
they were, like, “Oh my god, this
thing’s really not very well made,
it’s plywood. . . .” It’s a very inexpensive
instrument. It’s a mess
onstage. I’ll be playing “Lee Van
Cleef,” and I’ll pull that D string
and it’ll pop right out of the
saddle, so I have to reach down
and pop it back in . . . and the
neck moves around. But something
about it . . . it’s like a cool
old pawnshop guitar with that
janky sound.
Ler, “Tragedy’s A’Comin” has
this rubbery, atonal guitar solo.
What’s going on there?
LaLonde: There are a couple
of solos like that where Les
and I tried to notch it
back a
little bit—leave some space
between the phrasing and do it
in little bursts. Sometimes I have
a tendency to just go crazy. The
rubbery-type feel I think comes
from playing up high and pulling
off to open strings.
Ler, how did you get that
super-saturated, endlessly
sustaining metal tone on
“HOINFODAMAN”?
LaLonde: I had a [Ted] Nugent
or Neil Young-type, super-busting-
up, amp-about-to-blow-up
sound in my head, and I got that
by cranking a Fulltone Ultimate
Octave up all the way. I played
a couple different tracks of that
with a couple of different guitars .
. . I don’t know how I’m going to
recreate that sound live!
Let’s talk gear a little more. Les,
you’ve been associated with
Carl Thompson basses for a
long time. Did you use those
for this album?
Claypool: I’m playing this new
bass that’s my own design—the
Claypool Pachyderm—and it’s
build by this buddy of mine from
high school named Dan Maloney.
He was a luthier for Zeta Systems,
and he built my banjo bass and
one of my uprights. We’re going
to sell a handful of them. It’s
something I’ve wanted to do for
years. Carl is the super-genius,
the Stradivarius of bass makers,
but all his instruments are so
unique—they’re like pieces of
art—so it’s hard to get two that
sound the same. So I decided I
wanted to design
exactly what I
wanted—the most comfortable,
user-friendly, easy-to-play bass I
possibly could. And the prototype
is what I’ve been playing for the
last year or so.
Tell us about it.
Claypool: It’s very simple—one
pickup, one Volume knob, one
EMG pickup. The ones I use
have the Kahler whammy bars on
them. The shape is very ergonomic.
It’s very light, and it looks cool.
It looks like a cross between a
Carl Thompson, a Rickenbacker,
a P bass, and a Jazz bass—and it
kind of is.
Ler, has your rig changed much?
LaLonde: It actually changed
a
lot for this album. I’ve always
used Marshalls for everything,
but I ended up using a Fender
Super-Sonic head through an
EVH cabinet. I was hanging
out at the Fender factory, and
they were like, “What are you
using for amps?” I’d been trying
a couple of different amp companies,
and nothing was really
working—it’s Primus, so it can’t
sound too polished or hi-fidelity.
We noticed as soon as I got
the Super-Sonic that the guitar
sounded a lot clearer than with
the Marshalls.
Is it the 60-watt or the 100-
watt model?
LaLonde: It’s the 60. I tried the
100-watt and I thought it was
amazing, but when I played it
with the band it was almost
too much.
You switched cabinets, too?
LaLonde: Yeah. I was playing
the Super-Sonic through
my Marshall cabinet, and I
really liked how it sounded,
but they said, “Hey, would
you be interested in checking
out the Van Halen cabinet.”
I was, like, “I
guess so.” And
then I tried it and I was like,
“Oh my god!” It sounded like
my old Marshall cabinet that I
can’t seem to find, which had
25-watt Celestions. I thought it
was going to be more of a new-school
sound, but it reminded
me a lot of a vintage Marshall.
What else has changed in
your rig?
LaLonde: I totally redid my
pedalboard. It’s been 12 years
since we recorded, and back then
if you wanted a vintage sound you
had to actually find vintage stuff
and try to keep it working. So
it was great to find all these new
pedals that have tap tempo for
everything. I took time to try a lot
of stuff, which I didn’t really have
time or patience for in the past.
What did you end up with?
LaLonde: I got that Fulltone
Ultimate Octave, which was a
huge score for me, because I really
didn’t use too many distortion
boxes before. I got three MXR
Carbon Copys, which are so cool
because they’ve got that old-school
analog thing, where you can grab
the knobs and make spaceship
sounds. Over the years of having
digital delays, I kind of got
away from that. I’ve got a Way
Huge Swollen Pickle and Ring
Worm, a Fulltone Mini DejaVibe
2, an EBS OctaBass pedal that
I’ve had forever, and a bunch of
Strymon stuff—the Brigadier
delay, the Ola chorus/vibrato, the
Orbit flanger, and the BlueSky
Reverberator. Those pedals are all
over the new album. I’ve also got
a Dunlop wah that they custom
made for me to recreate some earlier
sounds I’d made.” [Dunlop’s
Bryan Kehoe expounds: “Ler was
having problems matching the
sound on ‘Those Damned Blue-
Collar Tweekers.’ He was using
two wahs, one for ‘Tweekers’
and one for a regular wah sound.
I told him we could put both
sounds into one wah. We spent
a couple of days dialing in the
‘Tweeker’ sound on a Dimebag
signature wah and an EQ, then
we customized a Custom Audio
Electronics MC404 wah to match
that ‘Tweekers’ sound
and added
a switch to click into the other
channel of the wah for more
subtle Cry Baby work.”]
How about guitars?
LaLonde: It’s all Fender now.
The first couple of months
of recording were either a ’69
Thinline Tele or a ’76 Strat—
which is the sparkly green Strat
that I’ve had forever.
That’s what you used in the
early days, right?
LaLonde: Right. In the
really
early days, I also had a ’79 Strat
that had a Floyd Rose on it. I
routed it out with a steak knife or
something to put in a humbucker.
You really used a steak knife?
LaLonde: Yeah. I didn’t know
what a router was, and I didn’t
know how to have it done, so I
was, like, “Well, my mom has
a steak knife. . . .” I don’t even
think I soldered the wires—I just
twisted them together. I didn’t
even know where they went. I
just moved the wires around until
some sound came out the other
end [of the cable].
Is the Thinline Tele a reissue?
LaLonde: No, I was actually
going to sell it, because I have
so much vintage stuff and I was
getting tired of storing it and
worrying about losing it. I took
it to this guitar store in Venice
and I was like, “Can you just sell
this?” So they cleaned it up and
rebuilt it, but when I saw it all
put together I was like, “Maybe
I’ll hold onto this one!” That’s
probably the guitar I used the
most on the album. It’s totally
beat, but when we started going
through guitars that was the one.
Is the ’76 Strat modified?
LaLonde: Just the pickups. I
ended up switching them out for
whatever comes in the American
Deluxe Strat.
Did you use any other guitars
on the album?
LaLonde: The other guitar was
an American Deluxe Strat. The
[S-1] pushbutton out-of-phase
stuff and the hardware is just killer.
That became my main guitar
for playing live, and that’s how I
ended up choosing those pickups
for the ’76, too.
LaLonde onstage with his new Fender American Deluxe Strat at the 2011 Soundwave Festival in Sydney, Australia.
Photo by Cassandra Hannagan
Okay, enough about gear. Let’s
talk more about playing. Very
few bands are defined as heavily
by the bass as Primus is. What
are the pros and cons of that
dynamic?
LaLonde: Probably the con—actually, it’s a pro for me—is that
the guitar isn’t as prominent.
So I’m in the background a lot,
which I enjoy because it gives me
some freedom—but it doesn’t
get you as much notoriety. But
the only reason I want more
notoriety is to try to get more
gear [
laughs]. But there are a million
pros for me. A lot of bands
I love—like Bow Wow Wow, the
Police, and Iron Maiden—have a
lot of bass. And in a lot of bands
you can’t even
hear the bass. Plus,
it’s just fun trying to be more of a
textural guitarist.
Les, what do you think was
most instrumental in the development
of your commanding
playing style?
Claypool: I grew up listening to
bands that were defined by the
bass, because A) I’ve always loved
the bass, and B) I was always
drawn to ’70s soul music—which
is all bass driven. I was also very
drawn to Chris Squire and Geddy
Lee. I mean, you listen to Yes
records, and Squire’s bass is the
loudest, most prominent thing
on the record
by far. Even Beatles
records—the bass is
huge. But
[Paul] McCartney’s such a melodic
and unobtrusive player that
the girth and volume of it can be
there without it being a distraction
from the melodic element of
the composition.
Ler, Can you take us back in
time and tell us about the most
memorable lesson you had with
Joe Satriani?
LaLonde: At first, the biggest part
was just sitting in a little eight-by-eight
room and seeing someone
playing like that. I’d never just
sat by somebody who was that
good. One lesson that clicked big
was when he had that song “The
Enigmatic” from [1986’s]
Not of
This Earth. At first when he was
teaching me theory, it made no
sense at all. I didn’t get how all the
different modes worked together
until he taught me a scale and
had me play a part or a rhythm
in that key, and he would solo
over it in that key. Then he taught
me the Enigmatic scale [
Editor’s
note: Italian composer Giuseppe
Verdi invented the scale in the late
1800s.], and I learned the riff to
that song and played it for him to
solo over. And then he would play
the riff and I would solo over it—
which must have been pure comedy
to see the contrast [
laughs]. I
didn’t realize you could make up
your own scales and keys until he
explained that to me.
Why was that so important for
you as a player?
LaLonde: Because when Les
comes up with a part, I’ve got to
sit down and figure out what he
played. He’ll play something and
you can’t just go, “Oh, that’s in E
major,” or something. I’ll have to
pick out all the notes and make
up new chords and scales within
the key that’s been created.
Ler, when you were in high
school, you were really into
thrash and speed metal.
What steered you off that
path and toward a more avant-garde
approach?
LaLonde: Everyone started trying
to top each other with the speed
and the growl and the heaviness,
and it started to become
this wash. It didn’t sound like
music anymore. I was still in high
school at the time, and I had a
bunch of friends who were into
the Grateful Dead. So I went and
checked them out, and it was a
completely different scene. Then I
got into King Crimson. One day
we went over to this older guy’s
house to check out his new stereo,
and he put on Frank Zappa’s
You Are What You Is, and it just
sounded
insane. I was, like, “What
is this music?” I went to the mall
and bought the record—which
had Steve Vai on guitar—and that
changed everything.
Les, you and Flea have been
copied a lot over the last 20
years or so. Do you ever feel
frustrated that there doesn’t
seem to be anyone new carrying
that torch of bass originality
into the future?
Claypool: To be honest, I don’t
really pay attention to that. My
favorite bass player of the past 15
years was Mark Sandman [the
late Morphine bassist]. He was
amazing—I
loved his playing.
It was so sultry and had such a
huge signature to it, and yet he
played a 2-string bass with both
strings tuned to the same note—
and he played it with a slide. But
the emotion and the soul he had
in everything he did was just, to
me, phenomenal.
Today it’s so easy for young
players to go on YouTube and
learn anything that it seems
harder than ever to be original.
Claypool: But there’s some kid
out there right now who’s bubbling
under the surface. The
young players are starting where
we left off, just like Stewart
Copeland started where [John]
Bonham, or whoever he was listening
to, left off. There are guys
starting where Stewart left off.
Guys like Tim Alexander and [the
Foo Fighters’] Taylor Hawkins
love
Stewart’s playing. I’m watching my
son’s friends, and they’re
starting
with guys like me and Flea and
Geddy. We went on this boat trip
the other day, and my son’s friend
was playing a bunch of Muse for
me, and I was like, “Man, this
is great stuff!” So, there’s always
somebody there. It just depends
somewhat on what the trends are.
But there are some young kids
out there that can totally eat my
lunch, no problem [
laughs].
It seems a lot harder to differentiate
yourself though, because
it’s so easy to hear and learn any
kind of music. It seems like a
path to the cliché, “jack of all
trades, master of none.”
Claypool: Y’know, I haven’t
really listened to bass players in
many years. I don’t go buy records
because of the bass player. But
I
did years ago. When I was a
kid, it was every Chris Squire
and Geddy Lee thing I could
find. And then I stumbled across
Stanley Clarke and—oh my god!
You can look at me and look at
Stanley and see where I got a lot
of my stuff. I saw him play fairly
recently, and he’s still just
killin’ it.
Is Clarke the one who got you
into slapping and popping?
Claypool: No. It was Louis
Johnson on
Don Kirshner’s Rock
Concert. I was like, “
Holy shit—
look at that guy!” He used to
stick his thumb out, like, a foot
and a half away from the bass and
smack away. I didn’t really have
any money as a kid—I had like
10 records—but I had buddies
whose entire [bedroom] walls and
ceilings were covered with album
covers, and I would go over and
listen to music. I was sitting there
one day when I was 14 or 15,
going, “Oh man, Geddy Lee—
there’s nobody better than Geddy
Lee!” This guy who was older
than me was, like, “I like Geddy,
but, man, you need to listen to
some Stanley Clarke and some
Larry Graham.” He played me
some Larry Graham and Sly and
the Family Stone, and I was, like,
“Whoa!” Then he played Stanley.
I went by Musicland or one of
those record stores, and there was
I Wanna Play for You, when it first
came out, and there he was on
the cover, smoking a cigar with
his Alembic bass. I bought it and
opened it up, and there’s all the
pictures of his basses . . . man, I
ate that record up.
Claypool with one of his many Carl Thompson 4-strings at the Ottawa
Blues Festival in July 2008. Photo by Jonathan Joncas
Did you learn those songs note
for note?
Claypool: I didn’t have an amp,
so I couldn’t hear myself when
I was playing along with the
records. Rhythmically, I could play
a lot of the stuff, but who knew
what the hell key I was in—all I
could hear was the
clickity-clickity-clickity.
Maybe that helped me
develop a unique style. But I think
what’s going to keep me relevant
is how I
feel the music. If you just
listen to me or Flea, you’re not
going to have a very well-rounded
way of expressing yourself on your
instrument. But if you listen to a
lot of different things—and not
just the bass—you’re going to
develop a unique style . . . if you
have that in you.
Les Claypool’s Gearbox
Basses
Claypool Pachyderm 4-strings (maple body, walnut top,
padauk pickguard, graphite-reinforced maple neck, ebony
fretboard) with P-style EMG pickups and Kahler tremolo,
seven Carl Thompson basses in fretted and fretless versions
with various woods, Zeta upright bass, Bayou resonator bass
Amps
Two Mackie FRS2800 power amps, two Ampeg 4x10 cabs
Effects
Korg AX300B, Boomerang Phrase Sampler, MXR Bass
D.I.+, MXR EQ, Line 6 DM4 Distortion Modeler, Line 6
DL4 Delay Modeler, two API 7600 channel strips (used
for EQ and compression before Mackie power amps)
Ler LaLonde’s Gearbox
Guitars
1976 Fender Strat with Fender N3 Noiseless pickups,
’69 Fender Thinline Tele, 2010 Fender American
Deluxe Stratocaster
Amps
Fender 60-watt Super-Sonic heads, EVH 5150 III 4x12
cabinets with 25-watt Celestion G12EVH speakers
Effects
Fulltone Ultimate Octave, three MXR Carbon Copys,
Way Huge Swollen Pickle, Way Huge Ring Worm,
Fulltone Mini DejaVibe 2, EBS OctaBass, Strymon
Brigadier, Strymon Ola, Strymon Orbit, Strymon BlueSky
Reverberator, two-voice custom Dunlop wah
Strings and Accessories
Jim Dunlop .009 sets, 1.5 mm Dunlop Tortex Sharp picks